Fluff'o'd00m
by Kd Zeal
Summary: Tracks and Wheeljack, alone in the Ark, get overcharged on Prime's not-well-enough hidden stash of high-grade. Tracks didn't realize Wheeljack had a crush on him...
1. Chapter 1

Hello, and welcome to our new story! I played Wheeljack, and Xobit Prime played Tracks. Transformers is not ours, nor do we make money off this. Hope you enjoy...  


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"I can't believe they left me here! I mean how will anyone see my new paintjob if I can't go out for a drive?" okay, so he was getting a little bit overcharged but Optimus could have hidden that high grade better and some of it was his anyway. Wheeljack didn't have to know where it came from and Tracks needed someone to complain to. "What did I do to deserve this…. I don't 'do' monitor duty that is like… Red's job!" He all but pouted at the engineer… and noticed that he was actually not all that bad looking. Huh? Ohh, frag that HAD to be the high grade talking there! Even if the other had a halfway decent alt mode he was not… and what was that mask for anyway? "Why are you always wearing that battle mask?"

"You've seen how much things blow up around me," Wheeljack answered happily. "And I thought that was a new paintjob, I mean, well..." It wasn't just the fact that Tracks had a new paint job every week or so. He'd actually been watching. "It looks... good on you?" Looking blankly at the high-grade because it was better to look at that then to look at Tracks, Wheeljack wondered exactly where the high-grade came from. Then he decided he didn't want to know.

"Yeah but that is like in the lab! I mean why do you wear it everywhere else? You can't be that bad looking and you do have some taste judging by your alt. mode…" He preened a little when the engineer complimented his paintjob he loved painting mechs… but what with the war and all, the only one he could practice his old job on was himself. In all fairness he had kept it a secret but still… all a mech had to do was ask right? "Thanks, it took hours! But at least it seems I have succeeded in finding a paint that may survive the grazing of a laser beam… I can hope…"

"Ah, habit, I guess." Wheeljack shrugged a little. Tracks thought he had taste? Wow... "Why, you want to see me without it? Sound's like it's bothering you or something. I mean, I don't know, I'm just used to it..." Turning his thoughts to other matters, the white inventor reached out and tested the paint with a finger, momentarily forgetting that Tracks was under the substance in question. "If this stuff doesn't last, I could always try mixing something up," he muttered, rubbing carefully at the paint.

"Yeah, I would like to see…" He stopped short as a digit touched his armor, normally he would have battered it away with the excuse that the owner might scuff his paint, completely ignoring the fact that most paint could hold up even under interfacing… unless it was rough and tumble interfacing. Right now though that digit felt rather good… like really, really good! "Mixing? Ohh yeah that might be worth it! Are you good with your hands?"

Wheeljack jumped a little at the reminder that Tracks was still there. Pulling his hand away, he started removing the battlemask, talking as he did so. "And sure, I love mixing things. Though sometimes I mix the wrong things, that's when things really go boom, especially the more volatile things. Those get big explosions!" he prattled on happily. "I guess I can't be too bad with my hands, I mean, I fix enough things, dealing with those wires is a really delicate job, so I guess I have to be good at it."

Slag, he had removed his digits… but he was taking off that annoying mask that was so absolutely a plus. The engineer talked as much as Bluestreak but not as fast… and the images his last words painted in Tracks over energized calculations processor where worth every word. High grade did have some side effects that normally made Tracks stop after having consumed a few cubes, not this time however and that all too brief caress made him more than interested in what else those hands could do. "So… you 'like' messing with delicate wires do you?" He all but purred out, leaning towards Wheeljack and placing his hands on the others knee joints.

"I, well, yes, of course, why would I do it so much if I didn't like..." Wheeljack's voice faded away as he noticed exactly what Tracks was doing. He looked at the mech blankly for a moment, then took advantage of his newly unmasked mouth, leaning in and ... stopping. He wanted very much to kiss Tracks, Tracks was giving every indication that he'd like to be kissed, and Wheeljack stopped.

The engineer was cute! There was simply no other way of putting it, at least not while overcharged, and he didn't seem all that adverse to Tracks' advances that was always good. He was leaning forward anticipating the kiss, almost shutting his optics down when he realized that his partner had stopped. Actually more like his partner had frozen in place… "What? Don't you want to kiss me?" He pouted slightly then leaned forward and nabbed at the temptingly close dermaplates, okay so he didn't have a lot of patience, so what!

It only took a little bit to pull away from Tracks. Wheeljack smirked, rubbing a hand against Track's arm as he answered. "Yes, I want to kiss you. I just wanted, you know, to see what you'd do." That wasn't everything, it was the best excuse he could come up with, and he was getting tired of excuses. "Oh, who cares," he muttered, leaning forward again that little bit and happily resuming the kiss. Wheeljack gave a little hum of enjoyment, his dermaplates were more sensitive than he remembered, maybe that was why he'd worn the mask, or was it because of wearing the mask...

He didn't have time to answer that rather confusing statement before Wheeljack was kissing him again… it might be the high grade speaking but the engineer was a great kisser. Tracks shifted his grip on both knee joints slipping his digits inside to tickle support cables and pressure sensors. Deciding that the kiss could be even more enjoyable he parted his dermaplates and pressed lightly against Wheeljack's hoping to be granted access…

Wheeljack happily let Tracks in, sucking lightly at his glossa. Tracks still tasted like the high-grade, a thin and rather sweet flavor that Wheeljack found he quite enjoyed. He lifted his hand higher, tracing seams along Tracks' arms, lightly pulling the well-painted mech closer. He still wasn't completely sure what he was doing, what he might be allowed to do, but for now it was quite enough to explore and be explored.

Oh yeah, a very good kisser! Wheeljack was a little bolder then Tracks had thought he would be but he wasn't complaining and besides it was not like he had thought that much of how the engineer would be like when interfacing. He didn't think like that about any of the Ark's passengers… much at least. This mission had gone for far longer than it was supposed to and he was getting a little needy, many had already paired off and he had to admit that he envied them. Again… who would want a slightly narcissistic lover with a penance for chassis art? Shoving the thoughts away he decided to just enjoy this and think it over later when he wasn't high off his aft.

He wanted... a lot more than what he was currently getting, Wheeljack decided. Using Tracks' overcharged state against him, the inventor pushed him to the ground, almost rough from sudden desire. Well, not really so sudden... Resting himself against the freshly painted chassis, Wheeljack teased a side seam. Hopefully Tracks wouldn't be too upset when he sobered up... "Do you want to find out just how good I am with my hands, Tracks?"

His processor was spinning from the sudden shift in position and he clutched at the engineer whimpering in a mix of confusion and need. Arching up in response to the light caress to his side he tried to retaliate, stroking down from the other's shoulders digging into his side seams intend on getting a moan out of him. "Oh yes! Umm… show me everything 'Jack." He was not even aware that he had shorted his name, it was not something he did normally since he did not consider himself a friend of the engineer. That did not mean he did not want to be a friend… but merely that he had succeeded in pushing everyone away as always. No one would ever get him to admit that he was lonely, his bragging was mostly a way of hiding how very unsure he was… as the only thing he knew he was good at was chassis painting.

The pleading, pleading! Tracks was pleading, it had to be the high-grade, but it was so nice, Wheeljack liked it so much. "Everything, yes, I will Tracks," Wheeljack murmured, digging fingers under armor until he could find some of the delicate wiring. Stroking that carefully, Wheeljack all but attacked Tracks with his mouth, kissing and nipping at his neck and chest, anywhere he could reach, anywhere that would produce a reaction. He might only get this once, and he was going to make it count.

Primus… Wheeljack seemed to be everywhere at once, touching Tracks in places that had gone without pleasure for far too long. He keened and bucked, holding on to the engineer for all he was worth almost afraid of waking up and finding this a dream. There was no hesitation from him at all he fully exposed his throat to the sensual attack resorting to begging when Wheeljack didn't stay there nearly long enough. "Please 'Jack… my neck joint… I want this, I want you to do that some more!"

Tracks' needy begging dragged a moan from Wheeljack. "Yes, yes Tracks, whatever you want, I'll give you whatever you want," the engineer promised. He returned his attentions to the offered throat, running his glossa across and between the tubing. "I've wanted you so long," he added between licks, the high-grade and the sheer impossibility of the situation leaving Wheeljack free to spill his secrets without fear.

He couldn't doubt the engineer's words and felt a sort of relief upon hearing them still high grade and desire had to be what made him hear that last sentence… but what a nice dream, so very nice. The thought of someone desiring him were pleasant… he tried to not think that it was probably only for his looks. No one really knew him so how could anyone find him attractive on anything but his looks… "Make me forget!? 'Jack, make me stop thinking, please…" Tracks mewled helplessly, digging his digits deeper into armor seams trying to convey how important the request was.

High-grade made sparks slow to react, it wasn't unusual for overcharged mechs to interface with no reaction from their sparks at all. So Wheeljack was completely unprepared for the pulse his spark gave at Tracks' words, Tracks' touch. Still licking and nibbling Tracks' neck joint, as per request, Wheeljack turned his main attention his body. Hands slipped deeper under armor plating, searching for the nodes and wires that would make Tracks scream, make him forget, make him stop thinking, just like he wanted.

Giving up on making sense of anything was easy, especially when he felt a spark pulse and the slow agonizingly pleasant reaction of his own spark. Calling it a pulse was incorrect it was more like a slow wave of warmth sneaking its way through his systems complimenting the pleasure Wheeljack coaxed fought with his skilled digits. Tracks decided that he was envious of those inventions that had the privilege of feeling Wheeljack's touches every day.

Oh, he could not be feeling that, Tracks was more overcharged than he was. This long tingling of spark energy that Wheeljack felt against his body had to be a trick of his overly-desirous processor. "Tracks, my precious Tracks," the inventor muttered, free hand instinctively moving to tease at the clasps keeping the beautiful mech's chest closed. He didn't really expect to do anything with them, although the lovely thoughts he was having were oh so enticing.

No, his world had truly stopped making sense, in reality 'Jack was passed out beside him in the rec room, not muttering endearments into his neck joint… but he had to admit that he had never been so overcharge before that he had dreamt of interfacing. And the detail, arching his back he cried out as digits slid along the clasps holding his chest closed. Wow he had a better imagination then he thought… he couldn't even really remember when someone other than Ratchet had touched those clasps and the CMO was defiantly not that gentle nor sensual about it. "Oh! That mm… that is good, touch me, my spark casing?" What could it hurt, he wanted it and Wheeljack at least seemed to want it too… why else touch the clasps in the first place…

"Gladly," Wheeljack answered, spark pulsing again. He was beginning to loose his overcharged high as his spark's activity increased, but that was fine, perfectly okay. He wanted to remember this, after all, everything. Tracks' moans, then way he arched into his touch, his expression of peace and wonder and need, Wheeljack wanted to remember it all clearly. He brushed against the clasps again, half expected a sudden denial as he unlatched them. But none came, even as Tracks willingly opened to him. Wheeljack couldn't help but stare. "Oh... Tracks..." he murmured in awe.

Wheeljack complied, his spark pulsing again making Tracks' spark answer with another slow but burning hot wave of energy. His processor cleared a little but all it did was making him feel Wheeljack's digits on his clasps all the better, not to mention the cool air that rushed into his chest when it opened. The engineer sounded genuinely awed at the sight of his spark making him feel rather self-conscious. "It's just a spark… 'Jack, please stop staring… I would much rather have you touching…?" He didn't demand, he didn't dare demand but that did not lessen his want any at all!

The quiet request roused Wheeljack from his blind wonder, and he smirked, glad the mask was off and Tracks could see his smirk. "Are you embarrassed, Tracks?" the inventor asked, stroking around the chamber but not yet touching it, even though he badly wanted to. "Or just that impatient?" It didn't matter, he decided, it truly didn't. "I never thought," Wheeljack mused, hand hovering over Tracks' spark, "That you would actually let me do this..." He wanted Tracks to scream in pleasure, to overload for him, and with those thoughts Wheeljack finally touched the spark's casing, handling it like it was one of his precious inventions.

"Ahh… a little of b-OH!" How did he expect to get an answer when he did that? Tracks gave up and chose to just enjoy the sensations of having his internals stroked, wiggling a little in a vain effort to have the engineer pay attention to his spark casing. Apparently though Wheeljack weren't done talking, what he had to say made Tracks dizzy and unsure… he was not nearly as over energized as before and did not know how to take the confession. That concern was put on low priority when digits suddenly began caressing his spark casing, drowned out by the immediate pleasure and the first real spark pulse from his spark.

He wanted so badly to open himself, to meet Tracks' spark with his own, but fear of rejection kept Wheeljack's hands buried in Tracks. Wheeljack moaned as Tracks' spark pulsed under his hand, so welcoming. "Tracks," he requested, "will you... scream for me, please, I want to hear you..." The first real request he'd asked, he wasn't even sure Tracks had heard him, since Wheeljack was currently doing everything in his power to keep Tracks from putting two thoughts together.

He had no idea what the other was saying he wasn't even sure he was still in the rec room or if he was even on a planet and he did not really care either because it felt so good! And yet it was not enough, he could feel the overload building in his systems and he wanted it… but he also wanted more than a simple overload. All of this was felt more than thought since Wheeljack did as promised forcing the ability to think from his processor. "More… Primus! I need…'Jack, just… please?" His words fell in a jumble heap, making almost no sense as he withered and tried to press closer to the mech straddling his hips.

Shock froze Wheeljack for a moment as he processed the confused plea. "Yes... yes, gladly," he babbled, pulling his hand out from Tracks' seam almost too fast. It took only seconds to unlatch himself, and then he was bending over Tracks, sparks almost but not quite touching. He studied Tracks' face for a moment that he knew he would never forget, and Wheeljack smiled. "Gladly," he murmured again, dipping in that last little bit.

He whimpered in protest when the hands left his spark and armor, dizzy as he was he had just collected enough coherency to beg for further caresses when the light of his partners spark emerged from the opening chest plates. Stilling entirely, afraid to move or say the wrong thing he waited for Wheeljack to take action. He didn't have to wait long and ultimately gave what the engineer had requested screaming at the sensation of their merging sparks, pure unadulterated pleasure!

"Oh, Tracks," Wheeljack groaned, pressing further against the screaming mech. "Tracks!" he called again, voice rising to meet the other's in pitch. Oh, this was far, far better than he had ever dared to hope, the object of his unspoken desire giving himself like this, even if it was only this one time, it was worth it. Nothing could go wrong in this moment, absolutely nothing.

Tracks would have loved to draw out these sensations and had he been less aroused, less overcharged… less a lot of things he would properly not have reacted this strongly to the initiating merge thus enabling them to do so. Now however he bucked hard against Wheeljack, his spark flaring enticingly into the already establishes link and the immediate response he got send him into overload. he pressed as close as he could to the other, clutching at his chassis so hard it had to be hurting but unable to let go…

Tracks was beautiful in overload. Beautiful, and his cries, and the way he clung, were too perfect. It was a conspiracy, Wheeljack was sure, a conspiracy to send him into the most glorious of overloads. It was working, too, and Wheeljack thought he might melt as pleasure dragged him to the peak and threw him into the overload.

The overload sadly tapered off, as even over energized circuitry could only sustain such massive bursts of energy for a short while. His processor was soaking in bliss and he kept his grip on Wheeljack's chassis he did not want to let him go now and preferably not ever… no one had ever been that good before! "Thank you… mmm 'this good…" The words where mumbled sleepily as he nuzzled his face into the crook between neck joint and shoulder, he didn't even bother to move falling offline with the engineer sprawled on top of him.

Wheeljack wasn't sure just how much later it was when he onlined. He didn't particularly care, he was so very comfortable where he was, with Tracks underneath him... Wait a tick, back up. That meant what had happened last night had really happened last night. Wheeljack felt his face threatening to split in a happy grin. "Tracks," he whispered, stroking the face gently. "Tracks, it's morning, time to online."

Tracks wasn't a morning person, meaning it took him a while to wake up and so his reaction to the stroking digits where a small muffled moan and an attempted to nuzzle the hand. It felt good, the weight on his chest was… wait what? Searching his memory blocks he realized that he had been very over charged the night before and that it had had a very pleasant outcome. But what was he supposed to do now… contrary to popular belief he had not had that many lovers and most had been one time 'let's comfort each other before mission/after mission' not anything deep and meaning full at all. "Umm… Wheeljack?..." What could he say, what would be acceptable and what would the engineer do to him? Irrationally that thought made his calculation processor spit out a couple of very nice possibilities…

"Hum, yes, Tracks?" the inventor asked, pushing himself up on one arm to give Tracks room to move. The mech was so cute waking up, and after the way he tried nuzzling, there was no way Wheeljack was going to move his hand away unless and until he was asked. Or told, that would work to. And maybe, if he stayed focused on how cute and good things were right now, maybe he would stop worrying about what Tracks would do when he woke up more.

"I…" About now would be a good time to have a functioning processor, but then again as long as he was still half asleep he could enjoy the hand lazily caressing his faceplate without questioning it too much. What he really wanted to know was why the engineer had gone along with it, why he had said what he had… Tracks was very aware that he had started it all, thank you very much! "What… how did you… I mean…" Slag his lack of eloquence when it came to personal matters he just plain sucked at finding the right words. Off-lining his optics to think he unconsciously turned his head face first into Wheeljack's palm, it made him feel safe…

Not entirely sure what Tracks was trying to ask, Wheeljack continued his petting. "I..." Wheeljack hesitated to bring this up, sure that it would be misconstrued somehow, but still... "I... Thank-you, Tracks. Thank-you so much..." There were a myriad number of things he was actually thanking the mech for, and most he couldn't even put to words. That was okay, though, they could stay like this for longer.

Gapping at the mech lying on him he tried to process the words just spoken. Thank you? What did that mean, what purpose did it have in relation to their interfacing and why the pit did it make him feel uncomfortable? Tracks wasn't used to get thanked for anything barring the occasional 'thanks for watching my back' on the battle field. "Ah… why did you do it?" He was immediately embarrassed at his own bluntness and turned his face back into the engineer's hand, completely disregarding the fact that doing so showed that he wasn't adverse to what Wheeljack seemed to offer.

"Wha- why?" What kind of question was that! "Because I wanted to, Tracks! I've wanted you... Oh, slag, at least ever since I saw..." Wheeljack looked away, still tracing Tracks' face, since he seemed to want that. Oh well, if it was confession time, he might as well be thorough... "It... was your voice, first, that got my attention. And the way you fight, like you're not afraid... I'm always so terrified when I have to fight... And..." How was he supposed to explain his crush, especially to the mech he had said crush on? Wheeljack slipped a hand down, took Tracks' hand in his own. "I saw the art these hands created on your chassis. I saw you happy... I'm sorry, I know it was private, I didn't mean to see, it was just..."

If he had been stunned before it was safe to say he had no words to describe his current state, the idea of Wheeljack, of anyone in fact, wanting him for something other than his looks was just foreign. Then he processed the last bit and felt faint, his painting sessions almost always ended with an overload… his profession had a lot in common with that of a pleasure 'Bot. The intimate nature of painting another's chassis could not help but cause pleasure to the one receiving such attention. Neither profession, pleasure 'Bot or chassis artist, where looked down upon but Tracks had still kept his past hidden for all feeling that it would perhaps not help him convince other that he was a good warrior, after all acceptance of a profession did not equal understanding of the mech. "I… don't know… that is, why would… umm my voice?" He commented weakly, feeling supremely stupid at being constantly reduced to hacked off and stammered out sentences.

Carefully levering himself off of the flustered mech, Wheeljack nodded. "I can't... explain it. Not really. And I figured, you know, who would be interested in the inventor who always blows himself up? And, um... Maybe we don't want to have this conversation in the rec room?" Tracks was so... shy. Embarrassed. Like he was afraid that Wheeljack would reject him. It was a novel concept for the engineer.

"Okay… where do you want to have it then?" It was a reflex answer as his processor was busy mulling over the novel idea of Wheeljack liking him and flailing around in disappointment that the engineer had moved. Oh, and of course trying to figure out if he liked the engineer… he had just never allowed himself to think of any of the Ark's crew as potential lovers.

"Um... my ro- lab! I mean lab!" Yes, lab, nice... neutral... no available flat surfaces... To cover for his scattered thoughts, Wheeljack stood up, forgetting that he was still holding Tracks' hand. That ended with the inventor awkwardly hunched over from the middle of standing up when Tracks... wasn't. You know, he should probably just let go of the hand, that would probably solve the problems...

"Okay either is fine…" He wasn't really paying attention, reviewing every memory he had of the engineer. It was complicated trying to suddenly figure out if this was more than just a onetime thing and was it even a good idea to think like that? He didn't know but couldn't help obsessing over the possibility while he got to his feet. He didn't let go of the engineer it would have made the process easier but to the pit with easy he wanted to make sure that Wheeljack stayed.

It was an unexpected pair that made its way to Wheeljack's lab. Mostly because who would think that vain, narcissistic Tracks would go anywhere near some place as likely to blow up as Wheeljack's lab? Probably the same people who would think that Wheeljack would be leading Tracks about by the hand, both mechs looking like they were trying to blush and that either would bolt if not for their linked hands. Once safely inside the lab, with the door closed, and locked, Wheeljack turned again to face Tracks, with nothing to say.

Being led was not normally his style but then interfacing with someone while overcharged wasn't either… nor having mechs confess to… Primus! He needed to figure this out before he damaged something and got Ratchet on his case. He stared at the engineer waiting for him to speak and starting to fidget when nothing happened. "Um… Wheeljack? I… to be honest I don't know what I feel… I just… I think I would like to try again without being overcharged and I mean try to ah… I still don't understand how you can like me…"

Wheeljack didn't really ignore the warrior's words, he just focused on the parts he wanted to hear. With a happy noise, Wheeljack swooped in and kissed Tracks, only pulling back when he realized that he might be coming on just a little strongly. Pulling back a little, he looked at the floor. "Um... I'm sorry, Tracks, I mean, I can't expect you to know how you feel already, and I shouldn't be pushing you, I'm just... You'd really ... you wouldn't mind... trying that again?" He had been right, Tracks was afraid he'd be rejected! Now, why would he be afraid of that?

He had not been prepared for the kiss, but the hands that came up to shove the engineer away instead ended up resting on his hips and he whimpered in protest when the kiss was broken all too soon. Trying to gather up his fragmented thought processes he stepped closer to the other seeking reassurance in touch resting his head on a white shoulder. "I don't think I would mind… at least I don't feel like I would mind you were very… very good…"

Shocked, Wheeljack wrapped an arm around Tracks, holding him close. "That... might just be one of the nicest things anyones said to me, Tracks," the engineer commented, for sheer lack of sensible thought. This was... very encouraging, Wheeljack felt better than he had for... a long time.

It was strange to just… cuddle like this, before the war he had sometimes experienced situations like this though never with an interface partner, mostly it had been a part of his job as it were. This was much nicer, it felt like it really meant something instead of just an empty gesture. Tracks nuzzled the shoulder hesitantly, trying to gauge how much he could do without being rejected or reprimanded… a slight tremor traveled over his chassis. He had to stop judging this as he had his once job it wasn't fair to Wheeljack or to himself, and if he didn't learn to differentiate this, whatever it was, had no chance of working at all.

Wheeljack brought his other arm up, surprised at how happy such a simple thing was making him. Tracks' gentle nuzzle was answered by Wheeljack carefully rubbing circles on his back. "Talk to me?" he requested softly. He realized how very little he actually knew about warrior, how much he wanted to learn. "Tell me... about yourself? Or, or I'll talk, if you'd rather. Or, we can just... stay here. We don't have to talk. But I'd like... to learn more... about you, I mean...." Wheeljack realized just how much he was babbling and shut up.

"There isn't that much to tell…" He tensed a little but forced himself to relax the engineer would not hurt him… nor judge him, he hoped. "I lived at Iacon, I was apprenticed to an chassis artisan… he was frequented by the elite, even some council members. I liked my work… but I… I'm a good warrior I don't like people thinking that am too delicate to do my duty…" He became slightly defensive while pressing a little closer to Wheeljack's chassis, telling the truth was harder then he imagined… not 'the getting the words out' but rather the feelings of uncertainty that nibbled at his resolve.

Chassis artisan, right, that explained the painting. Why did that embarrass Tracks so, why was he so quick to remind of how good a fighter he was? Well, it didn't matter, not yet. He could ask those questions later. "You're a good warrior, I told you that, you fight so strong and bravely..." Wheeljack liked it when Tracks pulled closer. "Hey, you don't have to worry, I'm not going to tell anyone." Actually... Wheeljack understood Tracks concern, not that a past profession would earn judgment, Wheeljack didn't have to worry about that, but being laughed at when you tried to do the one thing you enjoyed, were good at... That was something Wheeljack understood all too well.

Wheeljack did understand it seemed or he at least respected Tracks enough to promise to hold his secret something he was very grateful for. He hadn't needed it though… no amount of, even when admittedly the best ever, interfacing would have made him tell the truth if he had not believed it safe to do so. "Thank you… it's just that… I can make a difference as a warrior, just because I'm an artist doesn't mean I'm delicate or frail… just look at that yellow aft head of a Lamborghini… no one calls him frail!" Somehow he needed to talk about this, it was really the first time he could.

Wheeljack started laughing. It wasn't that what Tracks said was funny... well, mildly, but not for the reasons he might think. It was just... "Oh Primus, calling him frail... good way... suicide!" Wheeljack forced an explanation out. Oh, he shouldn't be laughing, not over something like that. "Sorry, sorry!" Even while giggling, Wheeljack held Tracks, stroking his back lightly, trying to use his actions to sooth any sting his mirth may have caused.

The laughter was unexpected, surprise freezing him in place long enough for Wheeljack to explain somewhat and for the light caress to his back to clam him. The engineer was right it was a rather ridicules idea, turning his faceplate into the crook between shoulder and neck joint he tried to smother his own giggle. He wasn't very successful and tightened his hold on the other because the close contact where slowly turning his knee joints into goo.

The feel of Tracks laughing against him was almost enough to start Wheeljack up again. "From the way you're gripping... definitely not frail..." the inventor commented, still chuckling now and again. Not that he minded the hold, it was... reassuring. "You should laugh more..."

"I don't have that much to laugh about… but I'll try. " He nuzzled the neck joint and then experimentally nibbled at a support cable. It wasn't that he absolutely wanted to escalate this… it was just too tempting and he felt like doing it. It was novel to him, the whole acting on his wishes instead of reading and responding to the body language of his customer.

Any response he might have made was cut off by Tracks unexpected advance. It felt good, yes, but the fact that this was Tracks, so often seen as vain and aloof, Wheeljack was reminded again about just who he was holding... and just how different he was from what others thought. And Tracks trusted him enough to show that side... Wheeljack moaned softly, encouraging without demanding.

The moan was barely audible but oh so sweet, and he just had to hear it again so he continued his careful nibbling. He also began caressing the engineer's back plating moving his hands in slow circles they were shaking slightly as he was still nervous about how Wheeljack would respond. He felt naked without either his arrogant mask or his professional one. Would Wheeljack like him, the true him…

Oooh, he liked that, he liked that very much. Wheeljack moaned again, shifting slightly under Tracks' touch, wordlessly directing him. At the same time, his hand on Tracks' back grew more insistent. Brushing dermaplates against Tracks' cheek, Wheeljack was surprised to find he had forgotten to replace his mask, surprised he had been able to forget. But then again... Tracks seemed to like him without it.

That sound could become addictive really fast Tracks decided before he whimpered in surprise at the insistent caress to his back plating. Frag! That was so good… so was the feel of dermaplates against his cheek he groaned and bit a little harsher into the neck joint then he had actually wanted too and immediately licked at the spot to sooth the ache murmuring between licks, "sorry I didn't mean to hurt you… it just felt so good, was so unexpected…"

That had... not hurt, exactly, but Wheeljack couldn't really call it pleasant either. "It's okay, it's okay, Tracks," he soothed. "You didn't hurt me, I blow myself up worse than that every second orn." Maybe not the best way to calm Tracks, he realized after he said it. Oh well, said was said... Wheeljack continued his stroking, wanting Tracks to stop apologizing and go back to... whatever... he'd been doing...

While relived he hadn't hurt him Tracks didn't know what to do with the rest of the statement, of course he knew as well as anyone that the engineer was prone to lab accidents. Pit, the whole Ark knew when he had had one, but what was he supposed to do with the knowledge now? And why was he worried… more than normally, what made it nearly panic inducing to think of this now…

He chose to ignore it for now, ignore it and distract Wheeljack from it too and so he slipped his digits inside the engineer's back armor. Shyly he slipped his dermaplates up the engineer's neck joint over his jaw and pressed their dermaplates together.

Wheeljack's moan was cut off by the unexpected, so sweet, kiss. He didn't know where this hesitant, unsure Tracks had come from, but he didn't care, Wheeljack liked him just fine this way. He opened his mouth a little, letting Tracks deepen the kiss if he wanted. Stroking and teasing a seam, Wheeljack arched carefully against the digits that were bypassing his armor.

He vaguely remembered their first kiss, a foggy unclear recollection of need, tasting high grade in another's mouth and an almost smug happiness over getting what he wanted. This was so different… he could taste Wheeljack, oil and smoke, he could feel their glossas move against each other's and there was nothing but a gentle kind of desire in it. The kiss coupled with the engineers reaction to his hesitant caresses told him that the desire would not stay gentle for long if they kept going… He decided that it did not matter, he would like to interface with Wheeljack again, like it a whole lot actually!

Oh yes, he definitely had nothing to loose by letting Tracks lead this time. Tracks' shy passion was intoxicating, even better than the high-grade which had started this whole thing. Wheeljack groaned deeply, feeling the glossa exploring his mouth, tightening his fingers on the seam he was tracing. How lucky could a mech be, having his fantasies become such a sweet reality?

The engineer clearly didn't mind the thought of interfacing either, perversely it made Tracks unsure of what to do… kissing was working and if he recalled anything about last night correctly Wheeljack liked to have his seams stroked firmly. Shifting his digits out of the back seam he began tracing the edges of said seam instead applying pressure and friction-heat, hoping that he remembered right.

Wheeljack broke the kiss with a pleased yelp, shivering and hanging off Tracks in a daze. "More, oh please," he gasped, pressing against Tracks. He started searching for wires, trying to return the pleasure Tracks was so freely giving.

Tracks got more of a reaction then he had expected, still it was gratifying to have such a responsive lover… pit it was weird to even think that, but good weird definitely good weird! "I'll give you everything, just… just tell me if I do something wrong…" He decided that sitting down was the best solution since he couldn't keep supporting them both for much longer, since the lab was stuffed the floor was the only available surface… and well it had been quite adequate last night.

He sank to the floor with Tracks, idly observing that his reason for moving to the lab had just become void. "I will," Wheeljack agreed, pressing heated kisses to Tracks' chest. He moved against Tracks hands, silently begging for more.

"Good… I want this to be good…" More like he wanted it to be all that he vaguely remembered from last night, just real this time without the fuzzy feeling that it had to be the high grade talking, that it could not possibly have felt that good. He traced the edge of every seam he could reach, hands shaking slightly trying to please the withering mech in his arms… praying to Primus that the contortions really was from pleasure, not quite trusting that he was the cause of the pleasured moans coming from his lover.

He wanted this to be good? Then he was doing things wrong, because this wasn't good. This was great. Wheeljack couldn't think, wasn't sure how reassuring his observation would be anyway. Neck, that was right, Tracks had liked that, hadn't he? Wheeljack pulled himself up, hard to think, hard to do anything, and licked the neckjoint, rubbing dermaplates against wires.

Whether or not he was doing something right was debatable, that Wheeljack was doing everything right was not! The engineer was so good… so slagging talented, yeah talented. It suddenly hit home that they were in Wheeljack's lab surrounded by his inventions, his tools… things that he cherished and touched every day. Incredibly enough that was as much a turn on as the dermaplates that suddenly found his neck joint. "Oh 'Jack, ke… keep doing that, so unfair…mmm…" His own caresses turned erratic, more clawing then stroking, his spark pulsed heavily breaking his voice up into a shaky moan.

Slag, that moan, that moan was almost better than his screaming, so sexy, so delicious. The sudden action of Tracks' spark made Wheeljack whimper as his own spark flared in reaction. He lavished attention on Tracks, licking and nipping at his neck while burying his hands against internal wiring. Surely this couldn't go on much longer, it was too pleasurable to last.

He arched against Wheeljack, tilting his head back all but offering himself on a silver platter. His spark flared reaching for that of the engineer, this would be over very soon he had never before gone so fast from pulsing to flaring and he could already feel the buildup of energy crackles. "'Jack!" His next spark flare released the crackles, causing the engineer's name to leave his vocalizer on a scream.

The flare nailed Wheeljack hard as he pressed against Tracks, who was already as close as physically possible, without another merge of course. And the sounds he made, it was too much. "Tracks," Wheeljack moaned, low and deep as his charge let off gloriously.

Overload was always pleasant, but this had been… wow, just wow. He clung to Wheeljack as the charge wore off leaving him dazed, his chassis buzzing with excesses energy. This was not something he had ever felt before he couldn't even remember holding someone after an overload, it was… something he wanted to do again, with Wheeljack and preferably soon. 'Soon' being after they had had some energon, normal energon. "Thank you 'Jack, that was… umm… are you… will you go with me to take some energon?" Why was he shy now? That was stupid, but not something he could control.

"Um... what, Tracks?" Wheeljack murmured, still a little dazed. Energon, wasn't that what got them into this? No, wait... Oh. That was a good idea. Yeah, a very good idea... "Oh, yes. Energon. Good. Yes, good idea." Aw, Tracks was still hesitant... that was as cute as the slagging pit itself, if a little... weird. Yes, weird. Disentangling from Tracks and standing up brought a feeling of loss. That was stupid, they were just going to go get some energon.

He bit back a protesting whimper when Wheeljack began to move, logically speaking they had to move to get energon, but cuddling had been so nice! Still dazed Tracks resolved that his life would involve a lot of cuddling in the future. He had trouble getting to his feet, groaning when his stiff joints sent small tingles of pain through his systems in the end he had to support himself against Wheeljack while his joints eased up. "I'm sorry, it was umm… a cramped position and… I haven't really gotten to get a checkup in a while so…"

"Well, I'd offer to, you know, help with that. But, um, I think maybe... um, not that much... ah, work would get done," Wheeljack babbled. "So maybe, next time, I mean if there is a next... Well, anyway, I was thinking, next time... we could always, maybe... use a berth?" Once it seemed that Tracks could support himself, Wheeljack unlocked the door to the lab. "Of course, that's, ah, after we refuel. Because Ratchet wouldn't like it if we stasis locked because we were to busy interfacing to refuel."

He was babbling as bad as Tracks himself was and it was rather difficult to follow after the 'not' offer of helping him with his maintenance problem… the thought of the engineer doing a through systems maintenance on him was arousing to say the least. So was the fact that he was even thinking of a third time… the fact that he was requesting a berth was just rather processor blowing to Tracks. "A berth would be… nice, and no Ratchet… would be mad…" His voice wavered uncertainly as he confirmed Wheeljack's statement and then stated one of this eon's greatest understatements. The door slid open and he hesitated unsure if really wanted to leave the lab… they had to get energon but he was reluctant to rejoin the rest of the Ark.

Once again Wheeljack took Tracks' hand, not even realizing what he was doing as he pulled the taller mech out of the lab. "Then we'll just have to get a ber...th...." His voice dropped at the end as the inventor realized they weren't alone in the hallway. "Ah... Hi, Mirage," Wheeljack smiled, faced the sudden remembrance that he still wasn't wearing his battlemask, and tightened his hand around Tracks'. Well, this was awkward.

"Hello Wheeljack, Tracks," Mirage answered, optics flickering slightly as he realized just what he'd said. "Um, Tracks? Maybe you don't realize this, but..." pointing at some scruffs, Mirage continued, "Your, um, paint..." That might not have been the best thing to do, probably would have been better to let Tracks find out about the scruffs on his own...

He allowed the engineer to drag him out the door, feeling warm and flustered as Wheeljack was again confirming that this had not been a onetime thing. He froze mid step, tripping a little ending up slightly behind his lover who squeezed his hand… almost as if to reassure him that he was safe from Mirage. Caught up in his own thoughts he just stared uncomprehending at the spy until Wheeljack prompted him with a small push. "Umm… I am? Ohh no problem it'll go away… 'Jack can we go get that energon?" He was a little panicky in his answer since he was not really sure what had been asked in the first place. Pushing the smaller mech carefully in the back he got them moving sending Mirage an overly bright, nervous smile.

"Ah... um. Okay then, Tracks. I'll... see you around, I ....guess...." It took Mirage a couple of moments to realize he was talking to an empty hallway. "Hum. That was weird. I wonder what's got into them?" he asked himself rhetorically.

"Tracks, did you hear what he said?" Wheeljack asked, leaning slightly into the hand that still rested on his back. That felt nice, very nice... "Oooh, energon!" Okay, yep, he need refueling. Badly.

"No… not really. Does it matter any? And yeah energon, I for one am hungry and…" Wheeljack was highly distracting and had still not released his hand, not that he really minded that but, yeah, at some point he would need it.

Adroitly filling a cube, Wheeljack handed it to Tracks before filling another. Holding hands didn't bother him any, it was his secondary hand anyway, so far as he could be said to have one. "Tracks... your PAINT is scuffed," Wheeljack elaborated, pulling him to a table and idly noticing the high-grade cubes from last night were now missing. "I guess I need to come up with a better formula after all... The current stuff might be able to take lasers, but..." He trailed off into a grin, watching Tracks.

"My paint?... Slag… so oh!… that was why Mirage seemed so nervous?" He was utterly fascinated by how easily Wheeljack handled the cube, filling it and giving it to him only to start over with one for himself. He really couldn't pay attention to his paint right now… his narcissistic behavior a shield more than anything else and the engineer had done a very good job of tearing it down. "The help would be appreciated, I just don't know how to mix some of the paint types… I never got my full education."

"Well, that and the fact I'm... still leading you around... um, sorry?" Despite apologizing, Wheeljack still didn't let go of that hand. Though he'd have to let go to actually try mixing... well, anything. "Sure, I bet we can find some good paint, and it will be able to survive blaster bolts and interfacing, and Sunstreaker will beg us for some, and we won't give him any, how's that sound?"

He didn't mind being led around, not at all it felt nice and he had no wish to feel separated from the engineer. Somehow the continuing touch made it all real, there was no mistaking that it had happened… he tried to find a way to say it but ended up laughing instead from the outrageous comment about Sunstreaker. His rivalry with the yellow frontliner was caused more by the fact that Sunstreaker was accepted for what he was and had been while Tracks himself still felt that his former occupation would label him as unsuited for his warrior duties. "Well… maybe we can relent if he allows that I am better at painting chassis then he is..? Or would that be too evil." He lifted an optic ridge, the gesture lost in his mirth as he broke into laughter again almost at once.

There was that laughter again, rich and wonderful. Yes, he definitely had to coax Tracks into laughing more, a lot more, every day! Yes, that was a good goal, Wheeljack decided as he joined the warrior in mirth. "No no, I don't think think that would be near evil enough! But if it's enough to satisfy you, then I suppose we could relent. But of course, we wouldn't have any yellow paint." Because Tracks was not yellow. Blue, and a lovely shade of red, and in absolutely no way whatsoever yellow.

"Oh… right, but we would have green and white? Because I would like to… um paint you if… that is if you would let me?" Primus he felt embarrassed and… uncertain, it would be the first time he had painted someone he had any kind of relationship with. That thought made his processor freeze up… he had a relationship? Well, he did, did he not… or at least he could have one if he choose to, if he dared to and made an effort at not pushing Wheeljack away. The realization made him stare at the engineer in awe, completely taken aback that such a possibility had been given him.

"Well, of course, any color you wan... me? I mean... you want... me?" Wheeljack was so busy working through the unexpected, welcome, very welcome, offer, that he didn't notice the way Tracks was gazing at him. It was like... he was the best gift the other mech had ever received. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, especially since it was Tracks looking at him like that. Wheeljack wasn't sure what to do, so he drank some energon, remembering, again, that his mask was STILL OFF.

"Mm.. sorry." Realizing that he had stared unabashedly at his… lover, he lowered his gaze to their entwined hands and took a sip of energon. He had all but forgotten that was the reason for them coming here at all. So much had changed in the space of one night… all because of high grade and a spark merge unlike any other in his experience. Merging did not have to have anything to do with love and he couldn't rightly say if he loved Wheeljack yet… but the possibility was there, that if he allowed himself to feel affection would grow into love.

What... sorry? No, that wasn't what he'd wanted to hear at all! "Why... are you sorry? Tracks, I... would love it if you feel comfortable enough to paint me. I... would like to see the results..." Okay, that wasn't exactly going very well. "I just... you surprised me? And..." Hum, proverbial hole, getting deeper. Sometimes it was best to just shut up and drink, so Wheeljack did.

"I was staring… it's, oh… well I would like so too and I think I could… I will… I want to try?!" he was watching the table intently and so didn't really register how flustered Wheeljack was. "I… umm… I have never painted anyone I liked before… and I… have you ever been to a chassis artist?"

"I... um... no? I mean, no, I never... really cared how I look, and... um, sorry?" Putting the half-emptied cube down, Wheeljack reached out to cup Tracks' face. "Come on, please don't be embarrassed, it can be cute as all pit but you haven't... I mean, there's no reason to be.... you haven't done anything wrong." Or was he pushing Tracks too hard, he probably was, he didn't want to do that but he never quite knew the right thing to say.

Oh… he could really learn to love those hands. The thought was rather scary, he had never allowed himself to be that attached to anyone or at least had never admitted to himself if he had been. Wheeljack seemed to be so unafraid, touching others all the time, touching everything as if that was a way to verify its existence, Tracks almost never touched others, his entire education had discouraged actual touching, 'let the brushes do the work'. "It's not…I would like to paint you 'Jack… It is about the only thing I can give you, I don't have much and… I am not very... social and such, not… like you…" this was a lot harder than he had thought, had the engineer stopped touching him at some point earlier he would perhaps, almost certainly, have fled. Now… now he couldn't do it, there was too much he longed for that he could have with Wheeljack, maybe if he wanted it too.

"Tracks, no, you don't... you don't HAVE to give me anything, you know that, don't you? Please don't feel..." Wheeljack shook his head a little, smiling at Tracks. "If you want to paint me, I already said it, I'd love that. I'd love... I'll take anything you want to give me, but only as long as you know you don't have to give me anything." Wait, Tracks thought he was social? Where the pit did he get that idea? "I'm not... exactly social myself... I mean, I spend all my time in my lab, you know I usually only talk to Ratchet or Perceptor."

"Well… you are more social then me… I mean, you might not talk to them often but you can talk to anyone… you… even before this you always noticed me and was polite, I do know that I'm… self centered…" 'Stupid, awkward, idiotic why did I bring that up?' it was true of course but to actually bring it up and right now. Tracks felt really uneasy, waiting for… something to happen. he had no idea how Wheeljack might react to it and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I... well, you said... that is, you're afraid of getting... hurt?" Wheeljack answered, not entirely sure what to do with the confession. He couldn't deny it, as much as he might like to, but it was hardly the thing to do, 'yes, you are quite self-centered'... no, you just don't say that to a mech. "And, well... I don't... mind that? That you're, I mean... oh slag." Wheeljack was getting no-where with that sentence, so he stopped and took a drink, even though he had to move his hand away from Tracks' face.

Tracks off-lined his optics for a click and then realized that he had completely forgotten his own energon, while internally lamenting the loss of the warm hand. Wheeljack was not judging him... he wasn't trying to contradict him either or give him excuses all of which made him, rather ridiculously so, happy. He was also very accurate in his guess of the reason, witch meant he had really listen to him… "Thank you…" He relaxed a tad more and began drinking his forgotten energon with a silly smile on his dermaplates.

He liked that smile. Almost as much as he liked the laughter, actually. He liked that Tracks was so... what, innocent maybe, open around him. Silence descended between Wheeljack and Tracks as the two mechs finished their energon. "Um... if you want," Wheeljack hesitantly spoke, putting his now-empty cube on the table. "I mean, I don't have any projects I'm supposed to be working on... Um, so if you wanted... We could... maybe see about mixing some paint...?"

"Oh how sweet!" The voice cut through Tracks' happy little world as a laser through armor and he turned his head to glare at the owner of the voice. Gears… of course it had to be Gears. "Aren't you afraid of losing your positions as the Ark's most perfect mech to Sunstreaker? I mean you have white scruffs ALL over that perfect blue paint job, what did you do? Force yourself on Wheeljack?"

The world froze as he stared in shock at the minibot, not comprehending the accusation, not really registering the condescending sneer… a click later his fist had inexplicable made abrupt contact with Gears face plate and he would have done worse if Huffer hadn't jumped on him, a stunned looking Cliffjumper helping to force him off his victim. He was beyond angry, ready to rip the minibot apart for that accusation! He might not be the most… friendly of mechs but he would never, ever in a million eons force himself on another!

"Little scrapheap! I am gonna tear you apart for that remark…" Fear… some of it was fear because in a sense he had forced himself on the engineer, getting him high like that and then… but Wheeljack had told him it was alright! That he had wanted it… he had wanted it! Whimpering he twisted in the two mech's grip and turned until he could see the engineer, his own optics widening with terror when he saw the repulsed fearful look in Wheeljack's optics.

He had forgotten, somehow, how much damage Tracks could do, how quickly he could move into an attack. More than that, he had forgotten how mechs might respond, did they really think Tracks was so.... trying to find a word, Wheeljack faltered, watching blankly as his lover turned... "Wha... what... Why did you say that, Gears? ...why...?"

"How can you even be with such a self-centered brutish thing? Look what he did, he is almost worse than Sunstreaker! Primus, it's a wonder we are not all dead yet with the all the psychos and traitors running aromuff." Even Brawn thought that Gears had gone a little too far this time clamping a hand over his fellow minibot's mouth.

"Shut it Gears, I'll take you to Ratchet and… yeah." The orange and green minibot shot a look at Jazz… Prowl would know, there would probably be two mechs in the brig by nightfall.

Tracks … just sat down on the floor. He was feeling, no, he wasn't really feeling anything, not really hearing or processing anything… all he had in his head was that terrible image of Wheeljack faceplate. He didn't try to defend himself when Prowl showed up, walked like a drone down to the brig and just sat down again the moment they allowed him to do so.

Why wasn't he doing something? Why couldn't he... protest the accusation, insist on going with Tracks, something! But no, Wheeljack was left standing like some kind of statue while Tracks was dragged away for fighting... for defending... And like the coward that he was, Wheeljack slipped away, back to his lab. Back to his lab, and certain his fear and confusion had lost him what he had so newly gained.

* * *

That seems like a good place to end this Friday the 13th posting, no? Please leave a review!


	2. Chapter 2

And, for Valentine's Day, the second part of this, the Fluff'o'd00m! Once again, we don't own it. Prime played Tracks, I played 'Jack.

...what? You thought we'd LEAVE it like that?

* * *

"Apparently someone likes you. Still, try to avoid Ratchet for a few days… and do something about you paint will you, it's freaking me out!" The all too cheerful voice broke into his thoughts and he tilted his head back to look blankly at Sideswipe who was grinning like a maniac. He could grin all he liked, at least his lo… lover didn't think he was a monster. Primus, this was more than he could deal with, at least if he was supposed to stay sane.

Completely ignoring Sideswipe and his attempts at humor, Tracks stumbled out of the brig intend on getting to his quarters, not that he really knew what he was going to do when he reached them. He didn't feel like repainting himself…

For the next joors the Ark mechs got to see a side of Tracks that well… he hadn't even known he had it. He kept the white scruffs, he was quiet and followed orders, others only saw him when he had duty, he got his energon early or late whenever there was least chance of meeting others. It was all to keep away from Wheeljack he would do anything to keep that look from the engineer's face plates… the scruffs? Selfishness, he couldn't quite bear to part with the physical reminder of… yeah…

Wheeljack wasn't really sure what was going on with Tracks. The engineer knew well enough that the other was avoiding him, and so he obliged, staying in his lab where he was easily available, or avoidable. And then, quite suddenly while working on his latest project, Wheeljack remembered something. Foolish, stupid, he knew it, should have remembered sooner... Tracks was frightened of getting hurt. What he might have done... surely Tracks didn't think Gears' accusation had had any TRUTH to it? But then... it didn't have to HAVE truth, as long as it seemed to be believed... Wheeljack's thoughts got cut off by an explosion, the power source he was working on falling from his hands and detonating as the impact with the floor jarred it just right. That wasn't supposed to happen, Wheeljack thought in an almost accusing manner before unconsciousness took him.

Meeting Smokescreen at the entrance for their scheduled scout patrol was not something he had been looking forward to. And predictably enough the moment he showed up Smokescreen began asking questions. "Tracks, how are you doing?" Oh such an innocent question, and such a bad answer, all he could really say was 'fine' because he was not going to tell Smokescreen that his life was miserable, that he had lost his only hope of love for the foreseeable future, perhaps his entire life. Yeah, so 'fine' it was! Forming the word was harder then he thought and it had barely left his vocalizer when a tremor shook the Ark followed by a distant rumbling roar. An explosion, coming from the…from…

Smokescreen was left staring after Tracks as he, against every regulation in the book, transformed and tore off, sickly sure of what had happened. They had already gotten him out when he reached them, he could dimly hear Ratchet swear but all he saw was Wheeljack's limp chassis in Optimus' arms. They passed him, not seeing him in their worry over the engineer, he just slid down the wall and sat almost catatonic… sometime later someone found him, probably Smokescreen or Red Alert, he was urged to his feet and moved, someone talked to him and then the world turned dark.

Waking up in the medbay was a very common occurrence to Wheeljack. Idly, the engineer noticed that the damage was a little more extensive than usual this time, or rather that it had more extensive. Ratchet had, like always, fixed him up as good as new. Sitting up and looking around, Wheeljack realized he wasn't alone in the medbey, now that was unusual. Who was... Tracks? Why was he here? He didn't remember the warrior being in the lab... as far as he remembered, Tracks had been avoiding him...

Leaving his berth, Wheeljack stood, then dared to caress Tracks' face, just like he had that first morning. "Why are you here... Why have I let you avoid me...?" He wanted to kiss Tracks, selfish, why did he always have to touch and handle whatever had his interest... A streak of white caught his attention, and he traced it wonderingly.

Someone was touching him and talking, it didn't seem threatening and the voice… he liked that voice, there was happiness? And pleasure connected to it. Mewling quietly he turned and reached blindly for the owner of said voice, not quite willing to leave the comforting oblivion of near recharge. It couldn't last of course, his systems were slowly powering up, dragging his reluctant processor out into reality and all its unpleasant truths.

"Hmm?" Whoever was with him tolerated that he slid his hands over his abdomen armor, it felt familiar. Not the armor, of course, but the... trust? Yes, the trust, no shaking, no obvious fear and no yelling or flying tools. Tilting his head to look up, he on lined his optics and smiled at what he saw. "Hey 'Ja… Oh! Sorry I'll go, I'll stay away sorry, Wheeljack!" Internally marveling that the engineer had managed to be still in his grasp he scooted backwards off the medical berth almost falling since his equilibrium gauges was not happy with the treatment. They were so unhappy, in fact, that they dumped him on the floor when he spun away trying to locate the door.

Wheeljack was almost able to think that everything was all right when Tracks snaked an arm around him. The hope was harshly proven false a click later by the honest... fear? terror? in Tracks' voice, on his face. Shock stole Wheeljack's voice until the warrior fell, and then the engineer was moving to help Tracks up before he thought about it. "Don't... why would you... I- I don't want you to go! Don't... Tracks, don't you DARE go anywhere!" Helping Tracks to stand abruptly became keeping Tracks from running, hands tightening on the white-scruffed blue chassis.

Fighting the engineer was not an option, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him after all, and so he eventually stilled. The words had surprised him but he wasn't about to just believe them, it had hurt so much to see fear in Wheeljack's face. "'Jack, let me go, I don't want to hurt you again…" or be hurt again. Tracks didn't quite know why he was still hurting, unaccustomed to letting anyone inside his shields. There was no anger towards the engineer, only hurt, sadness and the wish to stay away so as not to be reminded of it all.

"No... no... I'm sorry, I should have stopped them, I should have gone with you, I was just confused... and it happened so fast..." His grip slackened marginally as Wheeljack sought the words to explain, to comfort Tracks quickly enough to have TIME to explain. He had hurt Tracks, and he needed to make it better, but how could he if the warrior wouldn't let him... ... what if Tracks didn't want him anymore? No, explain first, worry about that... after...

"It's not that! I can defend myself as needed… it was… you looked at me and he was right you know?" Tracks were determined to get it all out as it seemed to be the only way Wheeljack would allow him to go. "Gears was right, I did force you and that isn't right, no matter if you were interested, and I don't ever want to have that look directed at me again, it hurt! I don't want to scare you or see that my violent side repulse you so… just let me go and I won't come near you again…" There was a small, tiny insignificant problem with all this reason… he didn't want Wheeljack to let go. Not really, he liked being in the engineer's arms liked being held and interfacing gently without a need beyond being together. Still, the fear of what he had done, the negative feelings he had sparked in his lover… it was better if he left!

Looked at... But... "I was looking at Gears... I... was horrified... How dare he suggest that! You didn't force... Tracks, I don't LIKE to fight, fighting scares me, but I will fight! And I didn't... I remember, I DO remember I was in control... If anyone forced, I forced you, Tracks, Gears was just being stupid!" He was babbling again, the inventor realized vaguely. "You... you didn't... You didn't scare me, you've never scared me... No, that's not true, you're scaring me right now... I- I don't want... but if you want me to let you go, if you don't want me... I hurt you, I know, so if you don't... want me anymore..." Wheeljack was shaking, PLEASE don't let Tracks take him up on the offer, he'd follow through, but he thought he might just die doing so.

There are moments in life, be it long or short, were things just fall into place and makes sense… sometimes it is horrific, painful and destroys what little faith you have left. At other times it gives you everything you want and all you have to do is grasp it. Tracks stilled, feeling how Wheeljack shook yet clung to him with determination trying to figure out how a few clicks of confused words could make his pain go away so fast. It was the mix of apology and fury, explanations and fear that convinced him, not that he thought that Wheeljack would lie to him, but it was so like him to try and make things right again whether he felt like he stated or not. "I still… want you…" He sounded pained and doubtful even to his own audio receptors, but his doubts was not as to whether he wanted the engineer, but rather on whether or not he was 'good' or 'right' for the engineer. Oh, he wanted to be both, but wanting is not the same as being. "There will be more of this, others who say stuff… Are you sure you want this, 'Jack?"

But... why? Why would they even think such a thing, let alone actually say it? They were still in the middle of standing up, and so Wheeljack finished that, standing and gently turning Tracks to face him, embracing the warrior as he tried to rationalize people's cruel and false words. "Then... then they say stuff. We'll just ignore it, just like I ignore everyone who laughs at my inventions. I just... didn't expect it... I won't be such a coward next time, I won't leave you alone like that!"

"You weren't a coward! It wasn't your fight and I should have kept my temper in check I just… His words hit home 'Jack. I mean I got drunk and then…" Returning the embrace hesitantly he tried to explain his actions. His reasons for acting that way… "I loved it, but in a sense even with you as the aggressive one I did force you. I mean high grade always makes me h… riled up, and I guess that it does the same for you." Tightening his arms faction by fraction until he had the engineer plastered to his chassis he allowed air to escape from his vents and finally relaxed. This was good, this was what he had wanted, longed for and not dared to hope to feel again. "Oh Wheeljack! Please don't do that to me again? Don't look at me like I'm a monster…"

The growl coming from his engine surprised Wheeljack, and he knew he was holding Tracks too him far to harshly. "If you... EVER say something like that again, I'll... I'll... I'll hit you! You didn't force me, stop even thinking it! I know what high-grade does as well as anyone, you should taste some of the mixes I've made! And... And I already told you... I wasn't... GEARS was the monster, I was looking at him, oh Tracks... Tracks, you're not a monster, never... don't.... don't think that..." The aggressive growl dropped off until the only real sound was whirring vents.

It was enough, he couldn't deal with this constant up and down and not moving forward! Stroking his hands up Wheeljack's back, he tilted his head back and kissed him, he wasn't very good at it but it was the best he could do. Wheeljack had surprised him, the aggressive… protectiveness? not something he had foreseen, it felt good however. Breaking the kiss, his spark pulsing just a little, he leaned their helmets together. "I won't 'Jack, not if it means that much to you. I know… it's just, it felt… it hurt and I don't… I'm not all that good at dealing with hurt…"

"Then I'll simply have to keep you from hurting again," Wheeljack declared. He relaxed more, reaching up to run his hands against Tracks' shoulders. Feeling the pulsing, the inventor grinned a little, backing up and pulling Tracks with him. "I, ah, I kinda remember saying something about a berth next time? I mean, unless you, um, want the floor...?"

It was a ridicules promise, no one could keep hurt from another, but it made him feel good, the thought that Wheeljack was willing to try. That was what a relationship was, wasn't it? To be willing to take a chance on another, to protect and… love each other. Tracks wasn't a mech of deep thoughts or grand philosophical questions but Wheeljack made him think and he found himself seriously, deeply considering the implied offer. He wanted it, wanted what was so carefully offered, not just for the sake of interfacing, no he wanted it because Wheeljack made him feel whole and happy… was that love? Maybe, or maybe it would grow into love he… would take the chance!

"A… a berth would be good. But 'Jack you know… you don't have to, we don't have to interface? I mean I want to but I- I want you to know that…" Halting, uncertain how to express himself, he never the less barreled on when Wheeljack looked at him with fear? Nervousness?... it didn't matter he didn't want to see either on HIS engineer's faceplate. "I want more out of this then 'just' a berth partner! I don't know if I love you… but I want to try to love you and umm try to have a-a real relationship with all the little things like… dates, cuddling and-and Valentine's Day gifts." Desperately grasping for ways to describe what he meant he latched on to the human holiday of love…

"Valentine's Day gifts... Hey, that's a good idea... R... relationship?" Somehow, Wheeljack had almost managed to miss that word. "I... I'm not trying to drag you to a berth because I feel I have to... I mean, I really missed you, and I'd really like to, you know... and if you want to just cuddle instead of... or after, or later... Um, just not when I'm working on inventions, I kinda need to be able to move a little more then... but you can still watch, I would... like you to!" He very much liked having people watch him, sharing his inventing with him, but most people chose to make themselves scarce when he started poking wires.

They were both blabbering… oh, who cared! He could have Wheeljack, that was all that really mattered, have him for now and perhaps for forever, to a Cybertronian forever is indeed a long time. "I know, 'Jack. I just needed you to know that there's more to this for me, then simply interfacing. And I would love to see you work…um, I just don't know if I won't be too disruptive for you. I mean I like your hands a lot and I'm bound to get charged watching you work with all those wires and circuitry…" Teasing did not come easily to him, add to it that it was more than likely to be the truth… yeah, Tracks was slightly embarrassed and anxious he really did want to see Wheeljack work! He had imagined the engineer working on things, torturing himself with remembering how his hands felt…

"Well, you'll just have to learn when it's safe to, you know... jump me. And when it'll result in an explosion. Actually, no-one knows this, but when someone's around, I pay more attention to what I'm doing, because, you know, I'm showing them. So, yeah... But everyone just thinks they're in danger, so they don't... Um. So in a year from now... Is, is this our anniversary, or do we count that from when we got over-energized?" Wheeljack wasn't sure why that question occurred to him, but right now all that really mattered was that he'd gotten Tracks to the berth, now to get him ON it. With a low whine, Wheeljack nuzzled Tracks' neck-joint, licking lightly.

Jump him… that sounded so extraordinarily nice and well he would be allowed to do so if they had a relationship, so yeah all he had to learn was when not to do it! "Then I'll be sure to be in your lab a lot… to prevent explosions you know! I… I don't know 'Jack? We should maybe take today so… so we don't remember the thing with Gea… mm" He stopped vocalizing to moan huskily, running his hands over the engineer's chassis, oh, he had missed this so much. Not what it would lead to as much as the simple act of touching, he loved to touch and be touched like this. "Can we… can we lie down?"

Ah, that was very good timing on the moan, he didn't really want to think about that incident any more than he had to... so maybe Tracks had a point, then. "Well, that was rather the point of, ah, moving you over here, there's a nice berth behind you," and Ratchet would just have to deal in the morning. And then Wheeljack was moaning softly himself, the hands felt so good against him, and he had almost lost this!

Berth… oh. "And Ratchet? He will reconfigure us into something unpleasant in the morning if he finds out won't he?" Contrary to his statement he used one hand to find the berth and got on it dragging Wheeljack to stand between his legs. Despite his questions he was in no hurry to lie down nor did he intend to wait. "I… I didn't think you would ever allow me to do this again, 'Jack!"

"Only if one of us gets injured from this," Wheeljack answered absently, looking up at Tracks. The warrior really was attractive, so very much so... Wheeljack didn't say it, he longed to tell Tracks how beautiful he was, how much he loved looking at him, but he didn't want to make Tracks feel like that was the only reason for this. "Ever allow... I never want to stop."

"We will have to stop… you can't tinker while touching me and while I am sure we would make a show to remember I would be severely impaired on the battle field with you glued to my aft." Slyly teasing, nervous that it might be misunderstood yet wanting to try and make the engineer laugh at the mental image he had involuntarily gotten. "I think… I think I just want to spend as much time with you as I can 'Jack!" Pressing on the seam edges in the smooth back plating he leaned his helmet against Wheeljack's, he wanted this was simultaneously in a hurry and wanting to go as slow as at all possible… it was confusing but a nice confusion, one he would not trade off for anything.

It took Wheeljack a moment to process Tracks' words and imagine the image, but when he did it left him laughing against the warrior. "Yes, I suppose there are limits to when we can touch... so we'll just have to make it count!" One hand traced faceplates in fascination, the other going for seams and wires, lovely wires...

He loved that laughter! Turning his head slightly, Tracks nibbled at the engineer's digits, sucking lightly when he succeeded in capturing them… All of this felt strangely new, as if they had gotten a chance to start it all over, knowing what they were doing this time instead of just reacting to high grade induced lust. "Mm…" Moaning around the digits he pressed Wheeljack closer to him, gently probing the seams he had already been playing with.

Wheeljack allowed himself to be pulled closer with a soft moan, trying to climb onto the berth. He didn't entirely succeed, overbalancing and sending them both sprawling, though at least they were still on the berth! It was a good position, he decided hazily, even if one of his hands was trapped against Tracks and the surface they lay against. Actually, maybe that was even better, he liked stroking Track, and now he had a perfect excuse, not that he needed an excuse, but yeah.

There would be a lot of new white streaks on his chassis when this was over… and he would ware them proudly! It was strange to actually be proud of having a messed up paint job but he couldn't help it, it showed that Wheeljack wanted him, what more could he wish for? "You're… you're hungry for this aren't you?" The question was half amusement and half sparkfelt agreement, he was no better off after all…

"Um-hum," Wheeljack agreed absently, returning to his hobby of nipping and licking at Tracks' neck joint. It was such a rewarding hobby, after all, got the nicest little moans and short hums. And when he began moving his hand against Tracks' internals, mapping the wires and circuits, he very much liked the reactions he got that way. Hungry for this, oh yes, he was, had been hungry for this since almost the first time he'd seen the warrior, even more hungry from the time they'd spent apart.

Dropping speech altogether he just moaned, aching under the engineer, eagerly exposing more of his neck joint, and finally managing to get his own hands moving again. Stroking, pressing, probing at the seams, he wanted to be good to make sure that Wheeljack never regretted this. His systems heated with embarrassing speed, embarrassing but not really surprising, since he had not sought any kind of relief since… no! Not thinking about that right now.

Eager, Tracks was so eager. That was fine, though, since Wheeljack was pretty eager for this himself. His systems heated, not quite as quickly as Tracks', but still very fast.

There was really not all that much he could do to stave off his overload, it was fast, hard, and not enough at all. Holding Wheeljack to him, still stroking the white chassis, he murmured silly little endearments, working diligently on getting his systems under some sort of control. The engineer trembled slightly, the armor hot under his questing hands… "Please, can we merge again? Do you feel up to that?"

Feel up to it? It sounded ideal! "Up to it, yes, I'm fine. Ratchet was just keeping me here until I finished re-charging, you know how much he checks a person over before letting them go, but I'm fine..." Wheeljack felt almost bad that he hadn't overloaded when Tracks had, like he didn't enjoy the touches given, that was false, he did enjoy them, very much... But it did mean he got to enjoy the sight of Tracks in overload.

Air hitched in his intakes when Wheeljack eagerly told him they could merge, proceeding to reassure him that he was really fine. It was adorable, the engineer was so cute, sexy and hot! "Good!" Gathering strength for a few clicks he then managed to flip them over, grinning sheepishly down at his lover. "I want to be on top this time…?" He trailed off on a questioning note, wanting to be sure that it was okay with Wheeljack. It wasn't a question of dominance or control, he simply wanted to, to… he wasn't sure what, only knew that he wanted...

Ooh, now that sounded like another very good idea! Raising his hand, Wheeljack stroked Tracks' face, just looking at him for a long moment, just because he could. "Yes, of course. Whatever you want, Tracks." His words were every bit as eager as his body, which was already bending upwards, seeking more contact with the warrior, beautiful and hot and his.

Leaning down he nuzzled Wheeljack's neck, sucking gently on the cables, funnily enough he felt very unsure now that his lover had given him clearance. There was a lot he could do, wanted to do, but above all he wanted to be good, to make Wheeljack overload like the engineer had just done for him. Skimming his hands down the other's chassis, he relished the fact that his lover was already straining up against him. "So beautiful…" the words surprised himself… just a few orns ago he would have laughed scornfully at anyone who said he would ever call another beautiful, but the engineer was truly beautiful like this!

The words, or more the tone, the reverent awe in his voice, reminded Wheeljack of how he had felt when he had first been permitted to see Tracks' spark. He had been so honored, so gratified, so... happy. The inventor wanted to expose himself, not to hurry Tracks on, no, hardly, but to let the warrior see him, give him access to whatever he might want... but he didn't want the warrior to feel pressured, and besides, he'd rather like to feel those hands on his clasps, would rather like to be opened, to allow Tracks that heady rush of trusted power.

Shaking off his trance, Tracks leaned down again kissing, nibbling and licking at Wheeljack's faceplate, neck, and upper chest plates. Stroking what couldn't be kissed easily, patiently learning and relearning the chassis under him until he finally touched the clasps to the engineer's chest plates. "I'll be really careful…" Triggering the clasps gently he had to pause to look at the spark, it was agitated, sending energy out against its clear casing. The display alone arousing him, it made him want to paint Wheeljack even more, just so that he could be allowed to see how the spark acted after that intimate act.

"Tracks...!" the name came out in a choked, hungry whimper. The warrior had reduced the engineer to a trembling mass of needy, desperate mech. Wheeljack retained just enough presence of mind to watch Tracks face, he wanted to see, he wanted to see every little thing that passed over that beautiful face, the awe and the reverence and the desire... and the overload, he wanted to see the overload again, though he was fair sure that he'd be too lost in his own when the time came.

"It's okay… its fine 'Jack, I'll make it better…" Murmuring reassuring nonsense, Tracks bowed down and kissed the clear spark casing. He kept caressing with one hand using the other to open the delicate clasps on the last barrier between them while opening his own chest and spark casing. Looking up when he was done the question of whether or not Wheeljack was ready for him died unvoiced. He found himself watched closely by hazy deep blue optics, optics that seemed to plead with him… who was he to deny Wheeljack anything! Moaning he leaved himself into position, slowly lowering to allow their sparks to meet.

Wheeljack flailed, arm catching air as he made a strangled squeaking sound. The rush of pleasure had somehow caught him off guard, even though, maybe because, he had watched every one of Tracks' slow movements. The next moment, Wheeljack was grinding into Tracks, pulling the warrior closer, and quite thoroughly ruining his paint.

For just a click he feared to have hurt the engineer, but then hands latched onto him, dragging him so close that they would surely both need a full repaint when the merge was over. Funnily enough he didn't care about that beyond a small devious voice going 'goood' in a corner of his processor. Tracks could perhaps have lasted longer if… well, if Wheeljack had not overloaded like he did, clinging to him and making such sounds. It didn't matter… it really didn't matter because he could do this again, they could do this again. He cried out almost defiantly, definitely happily, and followed his engineer into the bliss of overload.

He was sated, beyond happy, felt good, totally comfortable, and warm. Yep, sounded like a good way to be. Making quiet happy sounds, Wheeljack nuzzled at Tracks, it didn't matter if they fell into recharge or not, he just wanted to stay here, stay like this. It was good like this...

Time went by as time naturally does, the years as humans counted them trickling by filled with trysts, battles, inventions and all the things of normal life. Wheeljack never failed to tell him that he was loved, showing it in multiple ways, bringing him out of his self induced exile and into a world of friendship… He was not longer so obviously narcissistic, he still took great care of himself but then he took great care of Wheeljack too and his looks were no longer a shield between himself and the other Autobots. Oh, he would likely never like Gears, had still not forgiven the ornery mech the near break up he had caused so long ago, and yet he did have to concede that things had happened a lot faster between him and the engineer because of that stupid inconsiderate minibot. Despite it all, he had never dared to tell Wheeljack what he felt, afraid somehow to give his feelings a name out loud feeling as if it might all despaired like a dream if he dared do so… one thing in particular made him feel humbled and loved like no other. In all the human years they had been an item, Wheeljack never forgot that stupid aft remark about Valentine's Day, always leaving him a token of some sort before going to work, even going so far as making sure someone else gave it to him if their duty separated them. Now was the time… he wanted to be more than just a lover to give more the just his chassis and occasionally his spark. The day had been beautiful, everything going as planned for once and Wheeljack seemed happy.  
"'Jack… there is a thing that I should have told you ages ago… I love you! I have known for some time now but I… feared telling you." Looking at the engineer he could see happiness radiate from the optics and smile of his lover… "Wheeljack… bond with me?"

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And that's the end. We hope you enjoyed it!


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